You'll Never Walk Alone
by DjDangerLove
Summary: They might be trying to teach Steve some things, but they just might learn a lot more from him. When Steve is turned back into a five year old version of himself, the Avengers go from being teammates to being a family. De-aged Steve. Family fic. No slash! With a best effort put forth to keep it from being out of character despite the plot.
1. The Soldier, Scientist, and Radio

**AN: Set after Avengers. First Avengers story. I do my very best to keep everyone in character no matter which category I write for. That being said, the nature of this story (kidfic) might cause me to bend the edges a bit, but I swear I will do everything to keep them close to character as possible, (because I myself don't like it when they are way ooc)** **but still include that fluffiness that might make your teeth tingle, but not fall out.**

**Hope you don't mind that I don't thoroughly explain how Steve got de-aged, but let's be honest, that's not why you're reading it and that's not why I'm writing it. It's what comes after. **

**Important: Bruce Banner is a little out of character for the first little section, but there's a reason for it, and he comes around. I promise. **

**I don't own anything except a heart that loves its heroes and villains. **

* * *

**_You'll Never Walk Alone_**

_Chapter One: The Soldier, Scientist, and Radio_

Bruce Banner stepped off the elevator as the doors slid open to reveal one of the top floors of Stark Tower. He adjusted his glasses with a sweat-slicked, shaking hand as the frames slid down his nose that happened to be stuck in a folder of research he carried with his other. His brain was so consumed with his findings and the stress they were causing that the sound of vintage piano music softly filtering through an old radio fell on deaf ears. Therefore, his left shin found the media device first and he let a few curses fly between the notes of a B flat scale as he reached out and caught himself on a nearby desk. The papers in the folder scattered like confetti from a can before swirling down to the ground with the descending notes of the musician's song playing though the overturned speakers, but the doctor paid no mind as he held his shin in pain.

"Sorry, Dr. Banner. Are you alright?" Steve Rogers' voice carried over the music.

Bruce winced and straightened himself as he glanced in the Captain's direction. Steve unfolded himself from his seated position by the window and walked towards the radio to turn it off. "Yeah," Bruce answered a bit shortly for both their tastes. He waited until the music stopped to continue. He swallowed thickly, trying to ignore his fast-beating heart, and made himself busy with picking up his papers while asking, "What're you doing up here?"

"I'm... just taking in the city, Doctor. Still a lot to get use to, even after all this time."

Bruce may have asked the question with a full desire to hear the answer, but he barely caught it- his nerves still frayed from his previous company and the contents of his research. "Well, if you'd quit living in the past with that radio, it might start to get better. Why aren't you down there with everyone else? This is a lab."

The words soured his tongue even as he said them, but he was trying so hard to not let his stress consume him and keep the 'other guy' at bay that all he could do was let the taste linger and watch a soldier straighten to attention waiting for a berating, but the soldier in front of him was different. The soldier's eyes were downcast as if that's where the army had trained him to look when someone yelled at him for no good reason. He sighed, disheveled his hair with one of his hands and took a step forward with full intention to apologize, but Steve took a step back.

"You're right, Sir. I'll make sure to get rid of it. I'm sorry for disturbing you." Steve took a another step back before making to pick up the radio, but stopped short when Dr. Banner excused him.

"Just...leave it." His tone was as apologetic as he could make it and he hoped the nod he received was an acceptance of his regret as he watched Steve head towards the elevator.

And maybe, just maybe, if he had known it would've been the last time he would see the friend he was use to he might've just turned the radio back on. But he was a scientist, not a psychic, so instead he watched the elevator doors close and kicked the radio with a shattering effect.

* * *

"Well, Pepper has been wanting to redecorate," Tony Stark commented as he surveyed the damage that had been done to his building.

Natasha glared at him across the room as she extracted herself from a pile of glass. "I'm going to redecorate _something_ if you keep getting us into these messes."

Tony didn't reply, but angled his body so that just in case hell froze over and he decided he wanted kids, he would still have the option to make offspring.

"It's not his fault. I should've caught it sooner," Bruce said as he walked in, pulling on a fresh shirt.

"You caught it. That's what matters. Otherwise we probably wouldn't have taken that guy down," Clint chimed in from entering on the other side of the room while kicking pieces of broken furniture out of his way. "Good thing Thor's still in Asgard. Otherwise, this place would've been taken down to studs."

"As opposed to the 'big guy' shattering the top four floors," Stark sneered, but saw Bruce rub the back of his neck awkwardly. "But if you feel that bad about it, you can go with Pepper on her shopping trip for new furniture. We'll call it even."

Bruce grinned a bit shyly, glancing around as he did so but said nothing until a thought came to him. "Where's Steve?"

It was a worrisome question with an even worrisome answer. Make no mistake, they found Steve. Well, a version of Steve. As it turns out, their little battle they had with some mad chemist in the top four floors of the Stark Tower managed to inject the Captain with some kind of toxin that left him as his five year old self.

So there they were, standing at the entry way to the room that Steve had hid himself in and not able to enter because the tiny, trembling voice coming from under the bed told them not to with a slight wheeze in his breath.

They weren't sure what to do, all out of their element, but the ragged breaths were getting much harsher as the seconds went by.

"Horrible hiding spot really, Capsicle," Tony remarked. "Surely your size was an advantage at the game of hide-and-seek. You should be better." He stepped into the room to end the stand off before the kid could hyperventilate, but the sound of Steve panicking became louder and suddenly Tony felt Natasha roughly dragging him back. She glared and shook her head while he had the common sense to cover his privates just in case she acted on her earlier threat.

"What?" He questioned, because none of them knew what to do. But rather than receive an answer, Bruce suddenly stepped into the room quietly while Tony, Clint, and Natasha watched from the doorway.

"Steve?" He called softly and was rewarded with a sniffle.

"Steve, it's just me. Bruce. You remember me don't you?" Bruce could hear Tony's huff of impatience in the silence that lingered, but he waited it out until he heard a faint, "Yes."

"Do you remember what happened?"

He waited again, this time a little less, before a "No," was spoken. Bruce deflated, turning a worried eye to his teammates behind him, but Steve's voice got his attention again.

"I...I remember seeing...I- I'm sorry, Dr. Banner." A rattling breath came at the end of his indecisiveness.

"Hey, it's okay. You don't need to apologize. We're going to figure this thing out. I promise, but I'm going to need you to come out from under there, alright?

"I'm...I'm sorry again, Mr. Banner. I...I don't want to. Everything is... different."

"Hey, Steve? I want you to listen to me okay. I want you to listen so you don't get scared, alright? I'm going to come beside the bed," Bruce explained gently, but he might of as well nudged the boy with a hot poker because a sudden raspy intake of air cut through the room. The scientist was vaguely aware of JARVIS alerting Tony to the distress and locating an emergency inhaler somewhere on one of the lower floors. By the absence of sound, Bruce figured either Clint or Natasha went to retrieve it.

"Shh, shh, now listen, listen," his voice was soft and soothing and Tony's jaw was almost hurting in the doorway from dropping so far, but Natasha caused pain in his arm with a firm nudge and his mouth snapped shut.

"I'm just going to lay down on my stomach beside the bed so you can see me...so we can talk. I'm not going to touch you, hurt you. I won't make you come out from under there if you don't want to, alright? But Steve, I know you're brave, and I need you to be so we can talk. Can you do that for me?"

A soft sniffle, and then a wobbly, "Yes," gave Bruce permission to lay down and peek under the bed. Once he did, it took everything in him to swallow the gasp that wanted to escape him at the sight of a frail little boy curled up on his side hugging his knees to his bony, hitching chest. Instead, he offered a small smile to the blue, watery eyes that peeked out from behind thin arms.

"Hey, Steve."

"Hi, Dr. Banner," but the scientist raised an eyebrow, "I mean, hi, Bruce."

"I only want to help you, Steve, so can you tell me the last thing you remember?"

Blue eyes ducked back down behind almost sickly colored arms, before appearing once more with the shinning courage that he was use to seeing in his friend.

"I guess so, but I don't want to."

Anyone else would have put it down to child honesty, but Bruce knew that even if Steve was scared beyond belief, he could never lie to save his own life. The scientist wasn't really concerned about the answer to the question he was about to ask, but he asked it anyway because he just knew that if he was short with the boy in front of him, he'd receive a flinch and those blue eyes staring intently at him would disappear again, because he too had been a little boy once, believe it or not, and he knew what it felt like to have someone, namely a father, only ask questions that they needed to know the answer to.

"Why not?"

Blue irises widened and it reminded Bruce a lot like what he imagined Charlie to look like when Mr. Wonka gave him the chocolate factory when the scientist read the book as a kid. And if Steve relaxed just enough that his legs weren't pinned against his chest, the older man pretended not to notice or look relieved as he listened to the boy's answer.

"Well...because...you might think I'm crazy."

Bruce gave a laugh he actually felt and let his smile linger when he noticed it was a bit infectious to the younger boy. "Believe me, Steve. I'm the last person that would judge anybody for being crazy."

"Well...I was listening to the radio...," Steve began. Suddenly, it was Bruce who felt like he needed the inhaler. Of course, the most righteous man in America would remember the little riff between them as his last memory of normalcy, but then the boy continued with, "Daddy yelled at me. He doesn't like the radio. I shouldn't have turned it on. I knew better, but I like it, and I...but he...he didn't. He kicked it and then he..." Steve trailed off, taking up the action of rubbing his forehead and then his eyes. "But...that can't be right...because I remember all of you, the war, the serum, Loki. All of it, but...but it feels like...seems like...I was standing there with Daddy and then...this happened." Steve motioned to himself with one hand before putting both back over his face.

Bruce never wished for the 'big guy' to show up, but if there ever was a time that he did, this would've been it, because he was at a total loss. He wasn't good with his own emotions, let alone a twenty-three year old, who was actually ninety something, turned back into a five year old. However, glancing back at the doorway at his teammates' equally lost expressions, told him that he was probably Steve's best chance at coming out of this with a semi-level head. Tony's jaw had once again rudely dropped open, Natasha looked less comfortable than being tied in a chair at gun point, and Clint had just suddenly appeared with an inhaler in hand unsure what to do with it except bend down and slide it across the room to Bruce. The scientist caught it and turned his attention back under the bed.

He wanted to get Steve to take the inhaler, but he knew he had to take things slow.

So he asked, "What kind of music were you listening to?" But Steve didn't seem to hear him, breaths coming in harsh and much more erratic than before. "Hey, hey, easy. Listen to me, Steve. Come on, Buddy. What kind of music was on the radio? Hmm?"

A desperate gulp of air and then, "Jazz...it...it's Momma's favorite. She sings- use to sing it to me..."

"Oh yeah? My mom...she use to sing to me, too, ya know?"

"Really?" And something in the way the 'y' of that word hitched just the slightest meant that Bruce wasn't as terrible with kids as he believed himself to be.

"Mmhmm. You see... my dad and your dad...I think they had a lot in common. But most nights, my mom, she would..." Bruce swallowed and directed his gaze to a spot on the floor between them, "come in my room after one of his...you know, and she'd sit next to me on the bed, and turn on the radio that was on the nightstand. We'd sit there for what felt like forever just listening to it." He gave a small laugh and noticed Steve flinch just a little bit, before wheezing in two short breaths. "She use to say, "Bruce, you know that's more than a radio don't you? It's a picture, too." Upon seeing Steve's small forehead crinkle in confusion he motioned with his hand, "I know. I was confused too the first time she said it, but then the more we sat there and listened to it, I knew what she meant because to this day, every time I listen to the radio I can see her clear as day telling me that the world is only as scary as you let yourself believe it is."

Steve began to ponder over that a moment and whether or not he could grasp the meaning of what Bruce was trying to tell him, he still seemed satisfied when he quietly asked, "Do you...can we...do you think we can listen to the radio? I want to see her, too. She seems really nice."

Slightly dumbfounded, but equally amused, the scientist gave it some thought before nodding his head and pulling out his cellphone.

"Steve, I'll make you a deal. How about I turn on some of her favorite music and you try to picture her while I crawl under there with you...and see if we can get you breathing a little better, huh?" Even as he suggested it, he could feel his blood pressure rise, but if he had to get the kid to be brave enough to come out from under there, then he'd have to be brave enough to go under.

"But you don't like being in small spaces, Dr. Banner." Suddenly, Steve wasn't a confused five year old boy anymore. He was just regular Steve, always thinking about the well being of others.

"Well, Steve, just because you don't like something, doesn't mean you should be afraid of it."

Steve thought it over, before nodding in agreement and Bruce hit the play button on his phone before placing it on the ground.

Elvis' _You'll Never Walk Alone_ began to play.

With that, he rolled onto his back and wedged his way in between the floor and the bed frame until he was laying beside the small boy still curled on his side. He turned his head to look at him and held up the inhaler between them. A feeble hand reached out and Bruce thought that the boy would take the inhaler from him, but had to try to keep his expression blank as the tiny hand grabbed what it could of his own large one and gently tugged it towards him. Uncertainty aside, he gave a small smile while aiding the boy in guiding the medicine to his mouth, offering a soft, "Easy," or "It's alright. Take a big breath," while pushing down the inhaler. He ended up having to push it twice, but after a few minutes the boy's breathing evened out, but the little, cold hand remained latched onto his.

Bruce stared at it a moment before glancing up at the blue eyes full of uncertainty, but the courage to give anything a try. He gave one last reassuring smile before providing a, "only when you're ready." They laid there for ever how long Steve wanted to with the radio playing, eyes shut tightly as if doing so would make a picture of Bruce's mom come to him and if Bruce sang along only loud enough for Steve to hear, well no one would ever mention it in the years to come...except once.

Bruce felt a small tug on his hand and glanced at the boy whose eyes were open again. Steve swallowed thickly for a reason the older man wasn't sure of.

"I can't see her," he whispered, a little sadly. However, with tiny fingers latched onto three of the older man's fingers he confided, "But the world doesn't seem so scary anymore."

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading and giving it a try! Please let me know what you think! **

**P.S. More to come! And this won't just focus on Steve and Bruce. All the others will be as equally prominent. **

**Oh, and I chose an Elvis song because my own mom sang Elvis and The Beatles to me as a kid. :) Go have a listen. **


	2. The Kindness of Hawks

**Thanks for adding this story to your lists and reviewing! I appreciate it and hope you guys continue to enjoy! **

(Side note: The chapter title is a play on a song called An Unkindness of Ravens by Sanders Bohlke. The song has nothing to do with this chapter, but it's a good tune.)

* * *

**You'll Never Walk Alone**

_Chapter Two: The Kindness of Hawks _

Skinny legs swung in an eight pattern above the shiny floors of Dr. Banner's lab as they dangled off a makeshift examination table. Whether it was due to nervous energy or just to hide the fact they were actually shaking, it didn't matter to anyone in the room as long as Steve remained seated. The boy had sat on the edge of the table a bit reluctantly, but obediently, for the past thirty minutes as Bruce had given him a good look over and drawn a sample of blood. Now that he wasn't focused on trying to be brave and Captain America-like while being poked and prodded by his friend, his mind had settled on making sure to make a mental note of every single worst case scenario that Bruce could possibly find under the microscope he was currently bent over.

He sat there in the pants and a long sleeve shirt that Tony seemed to pull out of thin air but the billionaire assured him that he had had someone deliver the clothing items while he was under the bed with the Boogeyman. Well, he meant the Hulk, but Banner didn't seem to notice the jab and Steve felt a little embarrassed. After being somewhat persuaded to just accept the expensive, well-made clothing when he tried to respectfully decline them, he stared at his pathetic reflection in the shiny, waxed floor from his spot on the table. Words like _weak, skinny, _and_ ineffective _swirled around in his head. He realized he didn't like being able to see himself and so, he let his eyes wander. They found the exit door quickly. Temptation had won only mere seconds later and he shimmied off his seat to make a run for it, but an arm snaked around his torso before he even made it four steps.

"Don't know where you think you're going, Pinky, but anywhere but here isn't it," Tony said as he sat him back on the table. Then he clarified upon seeing the small boy's brows furrow. "Pinky is from a cartoon. Pinky and the Brain. Oh! How fitting," he grinned in Bruce's direction. The scientist paid no mind to the jest, but Rogers shot him a glare.

"Well, look on the bright side, Cap! If you're stuck like this, you'll be able to watch all the Pinky and the Brain you want. Then, you'll understand my reference."

"Stuck like this?! No, no, no. That's...that's not possible is it? I mean the serum...the serum has to count for something! I can't stay like this! Please!"

Tony winced, partially because Steve's neck looked too scrawny to be whipping back and forth like it was while the kid glanced between Bruce and the billionaire himself and partly because kid tantrums just weren't his thing.

"Dr. Banner. He's right. Please, tell us he's not stuck like this. Your tantrums I can tolerate for the sake of science and all things worth studying, but this-"

"It's alright, Steve. We'll get this straightened out. I still see the serum in your blood," Bruce reassured.

Steve relaxed a little bit, but picked up the motion of swinging his legs again and staring at the door. Only when Steve's gaze turned elsewhere did Bruce give Tony a silent message with a glance. Tony, understanding, clapped his hands loudly causing Steve to jump. "Well Pinky, I think you were on to something. It's about time we blow this lab and get something to eat. Don't you? I'm thinking pizza."

"I'm...not hungry, but thank you."

"That's too bad, because Halloween isn't for another few months and you already look like a skeleton decoration."

"Stark." Bruce chided softly from his microscope.

"I'm sorry. We don't have...didn't have your resources back then, Mr. Stark...you learned to not eat much," Steve replied, and if anyone could make someone feel guilty by being extremely polite it was Steve. Bruce figured the next few seconds of silence were probably Tony's way of apologizing.

"Well, there's no time like the present to make up for it, then. Perhaps that's the purpose of all of this - To give Capsicle all the happy meals his devout, patriotic heart desires."

"Happy meal?"

"A cheeseburger, or chicken nuggets, fries, and coke."

"That's supposed to make a person happy?" Steve looked up doubtfully at Stark.

"Yeah, whatever. It comes with a toy and clogs your arteries. Joy all around. Now come on, Cap. Let's go see about that pizza," Tony dismissed.

Steve glanced at Bruce, for reassurance or help, the scientist wasn't sure, but he nodded his head anyway and watched the boy shimmy off the table again and head for the door. He turned back around when he noticed Tony wasn't following him.

"Aren't you coming, Mr. Stark?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah. I'll be right there. Go round up the others." Tony motioned with his hand for the kid to go on and after a few hesitating seconds, Steve left.

"What's the real verdict, doctor? Please don't say it involves me raising a kid," the billionaire demanded.

"If that were the case, I'd feel really bad for Steve," Bruce retorted. "But no, I think I can figure out a way to revert him. The serum is still there, but whatever toxin it is that caused him to change is sticking to it. Not attacking it, just sticking. So if we could come up with some sort of antidote to get rid of it, I see no reason why Steve wouldn't change back."

"Any time frame for an antidote?"

"I don't know how long it will take, but I'll be working on it around the clock."

"So until then we what? Babysit the kid," Tony asked, but didn't wait for a reply as he turned his attention elsewhere. "JARVIS, please inform Mr. Banner that Stark Tower is not kid proofed."

"It's not ideal for a child, Sir."

"But you live here," Bruce once again countered with a shy grin. "Sorry."

Tony rolled his eyes, but moved towards the door. "Find that antidote, or you're not going to be the only one with stress issues around here."

"There's something else."

Tony stopped short by the door and turned back to his friend. "Don't tell me we're having twins."

The lack of a minuscule grin that Tony expected told him it was much worse than that.

"With the toxin covering up the serum, the serum can't work at all. So...Steve's strength, energy, immune system...all of it...it's like it was before."

"Before as in-"

"Yeah. We'll have to keep a close eye on him. He's already had one asthma attack."

Tony silently lingered at the door just like Steve had done earlier, and Bruce wondered if JARVIS kept a log of what sort of emotions Tony experienced because the scientist couldn't exactly pinpoint the expression on the man's face.

Regardless, Tony nodded once and left.

* * *

Steve made it to the elevator, but had a little trouble reaching the button to call it. He stood on his tiptoes and stretched as tall as he could, but suddenly the elevator door opened and JARVIS' voice startled him.

"Don't worry, Sir. I brought it up for you."

Steve steadied his breath with a hand on his chest. "Th-thanks," he said, but made no move to get in the elevator.

"Sorry for unsettling you, do you wish for me to alert Dr. Banner or Mr. Stark?" JARVIS questioned as the elevator remained empty.

"N-no," the boy stuttered, then ground out another, "No," a bit stronger.

"Very well, then. The elevator awaits, Sir. Mr. Barton is eleven floors down and Ms. Romanoff is two floors below him."

Steve stared at the empty elevator, and for a moment he was back on the base staring at the capsule that would change his life forever, then the next a shiver ran down his spine as images of ice assaulted his head. He gasped and grabbed his head.

"Sir, I will alert-"

"No! No, Mr. JARVIS. I'm fine. Thank you," Steve said, trying to convince himself as much as the operating system. He wanted to remain in control and independent. He may be small, but that never stopped him before.

He stepped onto the elevator slowly, and pressed his back up against the wall. Releasing a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, he was beginning to think that the ride wouldn't be so bad. However, when the doors slid shut he felt a flutter in his chest and a tremor in his knees. After a shaky breath, he took three or four quick ones, before the images of the capsule and ice returned. He grasped his head again with fingers making tufts in his hair, whimpering as he did so. His spine found the crevasse of the corner and he sunk down until he was curled as far into it as possible.

JARVIS' voice barely made it passed the sound of blood rushing in his ears, but even what he could hear was gargled. Had he not been in the middle of a full blown panic attack or flashback, or whatever was happening to him, he would've heard the system say, "Sir? Mr. Rogers? The doors will open momentarily. I've alerted Mr. Barton. He will be with you in one moment."

But Steve didn't hear any of it. The ice was already consuming him, chilling him to the core, leaving him paralyzed and unable to breathe. He could feel small drops of water on his face that had yet to freeze, and he tried to focus on them as they trailed down his cheeks because they were the only thing he could feel besides the sudden spike of pain through his joints as he jerked violently with another shiver.

But then there was another pain, a white hot, burning pain on both his arms, then under them, melting the ice that consumed him, chiseling away at his frozen form. Whether or not he wanted to admit it, he whimpered once again as more water droplets tickled his face and the block of ice he was in decided to defy gravity.

Then, against all odds, a voice made it passed the loud white noise in his ears.

"Come on, Buddy, look at me. You're alright. You're not in there anymore."

Steve scrunched his face trying to wiggled his eyes, then pried his heavy, frozen lids open to a sight that made the chunk of ice in his throat instantly liquify.

"That's it," Clint encouraged when watery, blue eyes stared back him. He had pulled the boy from the elevator and carried him into the open space of the hall, before squatting down and placing Steve in front of him. But taking note of the thin, shaking legs of their captain, he kept his hands on the panicking kid's ribs for what looked like much needed support.

Steve stared unblinkingly at Clint while sniffling and jerking with his hitching chest because he still felt paralyzed from the ice the much taller man had extracted him from.

"Come on, Cap. You're fine," Clint spoke and under any other circumstances Steve would have noticed that it wasn't as awkward as it should have been. He became aware of a sudden added pressure on his left side before a calloused hand came up to wipe at the water on Steve's face that he had been clinging to. Now with that gone, he clung to the only thing left he could feel.

Clint had shifted Steve's weight to his left hand and brought up his right to wipe down the boy's tear-soaked face. It was one quick swipe, cheekbones to jawbone, but it was like pulling the plug on a bathtub and suddenly, Steve's small frame engulfed what it could. Rail-thin arms hugged his neck and bony knees barely hit his navel as the boy lunged at him.

Clint wobbled slightly at the change in balance, but quickly corrected it, although his arms were a bit slower to react. Eventually, he picked the boy up, craned his neck a little disgustedly when soggy eyes buried into the side of it and walked over to the window where the sun was shining through after feeling the shivers running through the small form in his arms.

"Hey, kid. What's this? Calm down."

"C-cold. I-I-Ice...trapped," Steve mumbled into his shoulder. Then it all clicked.

"No, no, no. Hey, look," Clint nudged his shoulder to prompt the boy to lift his head. When a watery gaze settled on him he motioned towards the window. "You're in the Stark Tower, see?"

Steve forced himself to look out the window, but immediately buried his head back in the archer's shoulder and screeched a "D-different," for explanation.

"No. Come on, you remember this. Just try and think, alright?" Clint tried to reason because he could recall Bruce saying something along the lines of "his memory is a little shaky, kind of goes back and forth, but it's important to ground him in the present."

So that's what Clint tried to do as he stood there holding the quivering boy. He didn't _rock _him, and he definitely didn't _shush_ him, but he made a mental note to remind JARVIS that an arrow would find its way in his circuit board if there was any evidence of this for the rest to see.

A snotting face was pulled away from his wet shirt and the boy wiggled to be put down.

"You with me now, Cap?" The older man wondered aloud while placing their captain on his feet.

The boy fisted his left eye, and didn't look up when he muttered, "Don't call me that."

"Why not?"

"I'm...I'm not him anymore."

And then, Clint was back to squatting down in front of him with a reassuring pat to Steve's side. "Serum or no serum, you'll always be Cap to me."

"So if you couldn't shoot your arrows anymore, would you still be Hawkeye?"

Clint swallowed and suddenly felt the void of not having his quiver and bow on his back, but he managed to force a grin. "You tell me."

* * *

They might have as well been eating Shawarma because they all sat around the table eating silently, not even looking at each other except for quick glances in Steve's direction to see if he was actually eating or just picking at his pizza.

The kid sat between Bruce and Clint while Tony sprawled out in the chair next to the scientist and Natasha perched between Stark and the archer. He managed a few bites before his stomach felt heavy and then decided to pretend to be making progress on finishing it when Tony's voice shattered the silence.

"Slow down, Spangles. You might choke."

Steve managed to lift a corner grin at the sarcasm, but feared that his eating situation would become a heated topic of discussion around the table and he felt heat run up his ears at the thought of the attention.

"Sorry, Mr. Stark. It's really good. Thank you for providing it, but I'm already full. I don't mean to be wasteful," Steve respectfully replied, gently pushing his plate towards the center of the table before asking, "May I please be excused?"

Older eyes all darted around the table in a secret language, before Tony started to say, "Hang on, Beaver-," but Clint suddenly bumped the boy's leg with his own and cut off the Leave It to Beaver reference that would certainly soar over Steve's head with a "Yeah, I'm full, too. I think I'm going to go find something on TV. You wanna come, Cap?"

Steve eagerly nodded and jumped from his seat to stand next to Clint. The archer turned to leave with the kid at his heels, calling over his shoulder a quick, "See you guys, later," and half of a wave.

* * *

Steve had been following Clint blindly, caught up in his own thoughts as he looked at his feet as they went wherever the older man led them. So when Clint suddenly stopped, Steve bumped into his legs.

"Oof. Oh, sorry, Mr. Barton."

"Okay. First off, the name is Clint. Second..." He trailed off as he looked towards what they stood in front of and Steve stepped back like he was standing on hot coals.

"We can take the stairs," Clint suggested, but as much as Steve wanted to, he didn't want to be seen as a coward.

He shook his head and hurriedly ran up and stretched excessively to push the button for the elevator before he changed his mind.

"You sure," the archer asked as they waited, but the kid didn't have time to answer as the doors slid open and they stepped inside.

He watched the doors shut and tried his very best to think of anything other than the ice. He was in a war for God sakes, he could ride in a elevator. But his mind was working against him, and he could swear that he saw frost on appear on the walls.

He shuddered and did his best to hide it, but a hand was on his shoulder right after it ended and for an embarrassing moment he found himself shuffling closer to Clint and leaning against a warm, black cargo pant covered leg. The man said nothing about it and just left his hand on the boy's shoulder until they were out of the elevator.

* * *

They had been sitting on the couch for only a few minutes while Clint flipped through the channels trying to find something to watch that was materially acceptable for Steve's fluctuating mindset without it being patronizing but he wasn't having any such luck. He was on his second trip through the main channels of the satellite when a small voice suddenly declared, "You'll always be Hawkeye."

Clint rolled his head against the back of the couch to look at the person beside him folded up into the back of the piece of furniture, almost swallowed by the cushions.

"What?"

"Earlier...you told me to tell you if you'd still be Hawkeye even if you couldn't be an archer anymore. You would," Steve explained while wringing tiny fingers into the pillow in his lap.

"Oh," Clint replied and turned his head back to the TV. Both were silent a moment, watching the channels go by. Then, Clint added, "You're right, because I'd still have a Captain."

The archer lifted a fist between them as he said it, causing Steve to stare confusedly at it.

"You bump it with your fist."

"Why," the boy questioned, already curling his nimble fingers into a small fist.

Clint thought about it, then shrugged.

"That's just what brothers do."

A soft, little fist bumped into a much larger, calloused one and suddenly Steve felt better than he had all day.

Maybe Hawkeye did too, but he wouldn't ever admit it.

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! :)


	3. A Man Who Was Gonna Die Young

**Thanks for reading, adding this story to your lists, and reviewing!**

**This chapter was going to come later, but I decided to just go with it. ****I hope you continue to enjoy the story! **

**(Tiny bit of Pepper/Tony in this one)**

* * *

**You'll Never Walk Alone**

_Chapter 3: A Man Who Was Gonna Die Young_

"So, how did it go today?" Pepper asked as she walked into the Stark Penthouse with at least ten shopping bags on her arm. Tony stood at the kitchen counter fixing himself a strong cup of coffee since the sun was beginning to tuck down behind the New York City skyline for the night.

"I should ask you that question. Are there any stores left with merchandise? Or did you drain them all for the most minimalistic person in all of America?" Tony turned, coffee mug in hand, and walked towards Pepper as she sat the bags down on the floor. They shared a quick hug, and a longer kiss, before she smiled and turned back to the bags. Seeing as she was about to share her purchases that Tony couldn't care less about, he quickly murmured something about the lab and headed in that direction before she could pull out the first item.

"Tony," she called after him and waited for him to rid his face of the wince she knew was there before he turned around. "You were supposed to be watching him today."

"He's fine! Spangles was, is, and always will be the poster child for morals and manners."

"Uh huh. Where is he then?" Pepper questioned slowly, hoping JARVIS would answer sensing that the billionaire didn't know where Steve was.

"He's..." Tony began to fumble and moving his hand around dismissively.

"Captain Rogers is in his room, Ms. Potts," JARVIS answered.

Pepper glared at Tony, before picking up her bags and heading out of the room.

* * *

Pepper Potts brushed a long strand of hair behind her ear as she eased herself down onto the bed of Steve Rogers. She pulled one leg up, tucking it close to her as the other one hung off the side so that her toes would brush the warm floor. She looked at the other occupant of the spacious bed. It nearly swallowed the little boy sitting in front of her and she made a mental note to speed up the process of buying a smaller bed until they figured out how to get Steve Rogers back to his adult self.

For the time being however, she watched the young Captain pull on small grey socks over his feet as he sat in the middle of the large piece furniture. "You really don't like the cold, do you? It's already ninety degrees in here," she playfully jabbed while making a show of fanning herself. "Are you sure you won't be too warm?"

He tugged the second sock up on his ankle before shaking his head. "No, Ms. Potts. I like to be warm," he answered while fiddling around with the folds in the discarded blanket between them. Pepper could tell he wanted to say something else by the inaudible workings of his mouth, but he was either too embarrassed, respectful, or a combination of both to keep going so she gently encouraged him with running a hand through his short blonde hair, taking note of the heat radiating between the tufts, and asking, " What is it, sweetheart?"

He snorted, the corner of his mouth raising slightly while a shade of pink colored his cheeks and the tips of his ears. She'd always been a bit motherly towards him and the rest of the Avengers, so it didn't seem so condescending when she used the term of endearment, but it didn't stop him from being a bit self-conscious. He tugged on the wrist cuffs of his dark blue longed-sleeved shirt. "N-nothing, Ms. Potts. It's just...just all of this," he motioned to himself first then the mounds of shopping bags stacked in the corner where the older woman had brought them in. "You didn't...shouldn't have went to all this trouble for me, ma'am. My mom won't...I mean wouldn't..."

Pepper, a bit heart broken at the small boy's trouble differentiating between childhood and adulthood, quickly took control of the conversation. "Steve. I've already told you to call me Pepper. I can deal with Ms. Potts okay, but ma'am is unacceptable," she smiled as he nodded in what she knew was a 'yes ma'am' in his head. "As far as doing anything for you, I think I'm doing Tony the biggest favor. Just imagine what having a naked Captain America running around here would do to his ego?" Both knew it was her way of telling him money wasn't an issue, but Pepper understood that it was hard for someone to live through the Great Depression and not be worried about monetary value. "Now, under the covers. Come on. Even superheroes need sleep."

"Does Mr. Stark know that?" Steve asked as he shimmied under the blankets Pepper held up and tucked around him once he laid down.

"You're better at listening to me than he is. Well, all of you are, really. Sometimes even Natasha."

"I think he hears just fine, ma'- Pepper. It's just following anything you say that poses the problem."

Pepper smiled and laid a hand on his shoulder. She felt heat again, but she was warm as well, and decided that she would ask JARVIS to turn it down a few degrees when she left. "Yeah, we're working on that aren't we? So, what'd you two end up doing today while I was out?"

"He worked on something important in the lab, said it could help me...well, you know...grow back, or however that works. I watched him for a little while, but then Mr. Stark said I could go draw and watch some show on TV that Mr. JARVIS played for me."

"Oh, what, uh, what show was it?"

"I don't remember...Binky something, I think? Please, don't tell him. He seemed to think I would like it and I think...well, I think that I was starting to annoy him in the lab because I didn't understand what he was doing, so I don't mind watching what Mr. Jarvis plays."

"I'm sure you weren't annoying him, honey. He just gets caught up in his work. Don't worry, though. I have some other things to talk to Tony about, so it'll be our little secret."

* * *

"Did you read Capsicle a bedtime story?" Tony questioned around the toothbrush in his mouth as he walked out of the bathroom and saw Pepper finally walk into the room.

"Well, if I did, at least one of us would actually be watching him."

Tony immediately stopped brushing his teeth and tried to let out a curse from around the toothpaste in his mouth. He walked back into the bathroom to spit in the sink. "He told you, didn't he? Well, it's my fault, really, for thinking Captain America could keep a secret," Tony called over his shoulder, then rinsed his mouth. He walked back into the bedroom to see Pepper leaning against the dresser with her arms crossed. "Look, I was busy in the lab trying to figure out how to change him back and-"

"So you left him to his own devices while you tried to figure out everything Dr. Banner's already taking care of?"

"Don't let JARVIS hear you say that."

"Too late, Sir," the operating system cut in and prompted Tony to twist his face into a 'I told you so' expression.

"See. JARVIS watched the little patriotic symbol and he got by just fine. You need to apologize."

"But I didn't ask JARVIS to watch him. I asked you."

"Then shame on you. Why didn't you take him with you?"

"And let the press get a hold of this? That's the last thing he or any of this team needs. Clint and Natasha are out on assignment, Thor's in Asgard, and Bruce is out working on a way to get Steve back to his normal age. You were the only one left."

"Well, Spangles and I don't get along when he's ninety-five. Taking away ninety years isn't exactly going to change that. Besides, I'm not good with taking care of kids. Not my thing."

"Tony. I didn't ask you to watch Steve because I thought you could work out your differences, or so that you would become the world's best babysitter. I asked because despite still having his memories, he's still having trouble differentiating between them and what's happening now. Did you know he had a full blown panic attack the other day on the elevator, because it reminded him of being frozen," she demanded, coming to stand beside him by the bed. Tony looked a bit taken back by the news and silently shook his head while sitting down on the edge. "Tony, he's five years old again with no serum advantages, no other family except this makeshift one, and whether or not he admits it, he's scared to death - something you might understand," Pepper kept going as she sank down on the bed beside him. "So that's why I asked you to spend time with him, because out of all us, I thought you would be the one who could help him the most."

Tony leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and ran his hands through his hair before quickly standing without saying a word.

"Where are you going?"

"The lab. I have things to work on."

* * *

Three o'clock in the morning found Tony Stark hunched over some sort of equipment he was tampering with. A third of the fresh cup of coffee from an hour ago sat cooling in the mug off to the left and he made to reach for it without so much as glancing away from his work, but a small, rather raspy, "Mr. Stark?," came from the doorway and startled him. His hand knocked over the mug, spilling the contents all over the circuit board with tiny sparks flying in protest. Curses flew from his mouth as he righted the cup and stood back from the sputtering machines. Once they settled, he turned his head back towards the door with a glare, but it instantly vanished when he saw bright, blue eyes peeking around the frame looking worriedly at him.

"You give Barton and Romanoff a run for their money when it comes to sneaking up on people, Captain," Tony muttered wiping up the coffee with a rag before motioning the boy to come in.

"Sor-," Steve began to rasp out, but cleared his throat. "Sorry, Sir. I didn't mean to startle you."

Tony winced at the boy's hoarse voice. "That's some croak you got there, Kermit," but the boy looked at him confusedly as he walked over. "Another cartoon. But thanks for the interruption. I needed some fresh coffee anyway."

"Why aren't you asleep," Steve asked, and if he rubbed at his throat neither of them mentioned it.

"Everyone knows I keep odd hours. I think the real question is why aren't you asleep?" Tony countered as he grabbed his mug and made his way towards the kitchen.

"May I...come with you?"

"Well Stars 'n' Stripes, it's a free country as you keep reminding me and you fought for it, so you decide."

Tony didn't slow down or turn around for an answer, but when he heard soft pitter-patter behind him, he made sure to take the stairs.

* * *

Steve sat on the counter where Tony had placed him once they were in the kitchen. His legs dangled mindlessly off the side as he watched Tony make himself another pot of coffee, trying to figure out how the device worked. The billionaire attempted to explain it to him, but Steve wasn't really following. However, he hadn't wanted to annoy the man like earlier so he just nodded along.

"...now, we wait for it to brew," Tony said as he turned his attention back to the boy who's hand was working over his throat again. "Do you want some milk or something? I could uh...we could put it in the microwave to make it warm."

"Oh...okay. I guess so."

Tony made himself busy with pouring the milk and heating it, while Steve tried to cough softly into his hand. "So uh, you never answered my question, Cap. Why aren't you asleep?"

"I just couldn't," Steve dismissively answered when the microwave beeped after a few seconds. Tony retrieved it and handed it to him. Steve sipped at it, melting into the heat and the instant soothing of his throat.

"Nightmares?" Tony questioned and the way the cup of milk stilled by the boy's mouth for a fraction of a second gaveTony his answer, well partially.

"Sort of."

"Sort of?" Tony shot back with a confused expression as Steve suddenly sat the cup down beside him.

"Thank you for the milk, Mr. Stark. It was really good," Steve hurriedly spoke as he shimmied off the counter. He made for the hallway but Tony snaked an arm around his belly to stop him. Unfortunately, that was the wrong move apparently as the milk that the older man had heated was regurgitated all over his shoes by none other than Captain America.

Tony and Steve froze. Well, mostly Tony. He kept his hands on tiny, wracking shoulders while staring repulsively at the vomit on his shoes. It wasn't until a shaky, raspy voice broke him out of his disgusted trance.

"M-Mr...St-stark...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! I didn't-" But Steve was suddenly caught off guard by a hand going to his forehead.

"How long have you been sick?"

"I-" But the small boy was cut off again.

"JARVIS. Report."

"Temperature elevated. Oxygen levels show slight distress, Sir."

Tony nodded once, kicked off his ruined shoes as effectively as possible, and picked Steve up under the armpits to carry him at arms length to the bathroom. Once there, he hesitated only a fraction of a second. "Are you going to be sick again?"

"I dunno. I...I don't think so."

"Thinking and knowing are two drastically different things in this situation, Rogers," Tony replied before deciding to set him down on the bathmat in front of the tub just in case.

"Mr. Stark, I'm really so-" but apparently the third time was the charm, because the older man cut him off once more by sticking a thermometer that seemed to appear out of nowhere in his mouth and gently lifting his jaw to close it.

"Drop the mister, Cap, alright? And don't apologize. You're making me sick," he teased quietly while pulling out his cellphone and sending a text to Banner. He received, "Be there as soon as I can," as a reply before the thermometer beeped. He tucked his phone back in his pocket, took the thermometer, and made a tsk sound.

"100, Spangles. Gettin' a little hot for Pepper were ya? Hands off, she's mine."

"I wasn't-" Steve started to flush.

"Kidding. What else," Stark pondered, rifling through the cabinets.

"Huh?"

"Where else are you sick, hurt, or whatever?" He clarified as best he could while pulling out a small medicine bag that he vaguely remembered Bruce and Pepper showing to everyone as the location of a back up inhaler and some children's medicine that might be needed.

He turned back to Steve, bag in hand, but the boy was swallowing and running a frail hand across his belly.

"Steve?"

The only answer he received was a gag before he found himself supporting a vomiting five year old hunched over the toilet. Awkward would be the only word that could describe Tony Stark the first few moments, but as time went on and Steve's retching turned to teary-eyed, trembling, dry heaves, he found himself propping the small boy on his bent knee, one arm keeping him from pitching forward into the bowl, the other rubbing Steve's spine. Finally, Steve collapsed back into his chest, too exhausted to do anything but try and take deep breaths. Tony stretched for a washcloth on the counter and wet it in the sink, before sitting down on the ground and leaning against the wall. He raised his hand to wipe at the kid's mouth, but when he turned back Steve's head rested against his shoulder, entire body limp in the billionaire's lap with an unfocused gaze and breathing a little raspy. Slowly, he wiped the boy's face without so much as a flinch from him and dropped the washcloth beside them. Turning back, he ruffled Steve's hair slightly before gently patting the side of his face.

"Hey, you with me, Steve?"

The small Captain blinked and shifted his gaze to Tony's. "H-Howard?"

Tony felt all the air leave the room and had an inclination to reach for the inhaler in the medicine bag beside them. "Shall I wake Ms. Potts, Sir?" JARVIS asked in the silence that lingered, but a tiny hand was grabbing at his shirt and he turned his attention back on the boy.

"N-not quite, Capsicle. Decidedly better offspring than the original," Tony replied softly, ignoring JARVIS and stiffening even more as the Captain's hand fisted his shirt then touched the arc reactor.

The boy jumped at the contact, but his eyes found the older man with clarity. "Tony?"

Stark was silent, but the way that Steve's body curled towards the man holding him prompted Tony to respond with, "The one and only, buddy, but you hurt my feelings not taking my word for it. Instead, you need this thing as proof," and he tapped the only part of the arc reactor that wasn't covered by a little hand.

"I like it," was the whispered response he received as if that alone should make Tony appreciate the piece in his chest that much more.

"Thank God, you approve. I don't know what I would've done if Captain America didn't endorse the thing keeping me alive," Tony countered instead. "But I'll tell you what I don't like. Said hero throwing up on my shoes and if you apologize again for doing it I'll make sure you watch the rest of the Pinky and the Brain series you hated."

Steve fidgeted, head burying slightly more into Tony's shoulder, "Pepper wasn't s'pose to tell you. Our secret."

"She didn't tell me, but secret, huh? Something we're going to have to talk about, but right now I need you to tell me how you feel, Cap."

"Sick."

"If I've given you anything, it's better lessons in sarcasm. Be more specific."

"Hurts," Steve responded and just as Tony was about to chide him, he added, "Throat, head, stomach."

Tony's phone went off indicating a new text message and he maneuvered the phone out of his pocket. "Bruce will be here soon. He's gonna look at you and see what he can do to make you feel better."

Steve's only response was to bury himself further into Tony, and the older man's initial reaction was to buck up against the wall and keep his distance from the sick child in his lap, but something slipped out of the boy's mouth that neither of them wanted to identify as a whimper and Tony relaxed against the wall before properly scooping Steve up in his arms and holding him to his chest.

It seemed to calm the boy, his only movements being when he coughed into Stark's t-shirt and the older man only scrunched his nose up slightly in response and ruffled the kid's hair to calm him once more. They managed a silent few minutes with Steve resting somewhat contently and Tony tapping away at his phone, before the boy's voice was muffled by the billionaire's shoulder. "Tony...," and the way the 'y' was drawn on meant that there was nothing coming after it and the name was all the boy wanted to say. Tony recognized it for what it was, because he, too, had been a scared boy in a battle he felt like he was fighting alone and wanted nothing more than for someone, mainly his father, to take him from the battlefield.

If he pulled the boy closer, ruffled his hair more, none of it would be mentioned, because he didn't rock him, and not in a million years did he shush him, but he started telling him a story about one of his first attempts at flying with the Iron Man suit. One that ended up in a hilarious failure with embarrassing details that the man would never confess to under any other circumstances except this one. He even received a few muffled laughs that if he were any other person would be considered giggles, and he found himself smiling along as he narrated the story.

* * *

That's how they found them.

Bruce had shown up twenty-nine minutes after he had gotten word of Steve's condition and on his to way to where JARVIS was instructing him to go, he had met a worried Pepper.

"Bruce? What- Do you know where Tony and Steve are," she asked, immediately following him since he hadn't stopped.

"Bathroom. Steve's sick," he responded over his shoulder, hand working messily in his hair.

"What-," Pepper began, but was cut off by two things. The first was that Bruce stopped walking for the first time since entering the tower and held up a hand. The second was Tony's soft voice filtering out of the bathroom door they stood beside.

"...but then I'd go outside, pretend I was fighting beside Captain America with Howard looking on like he did when he talked about you. He even told me about this part. Pre-serum, I mean. Don't get all broody on me when I say this, but I use to like those stories the best, because it made me feel like I was better than you. Again, nothing against you really... Okay, a little bit against you. Mostly Daddy-O, though. But I gotta say, you really know how to kick a guy in the teeth without even trying, you know that? Getting sick like this...you were gonna die young weren't you? Guess Howard was right, we do have something in common."

Pepper gasped slightly causing Bruce to glance at her a moment. She waved him off as a memory came to her.

_She sat beside Tony on the balcony of Stark Tower, gently cleaning off the blood from several scrapes all over his face. He hadn't paid much attention to her, eyes staring blankly at the city, mind elsewhere, but suddenly he managed to lock his gaze on hers. She noticed, letting her fingers slowly descend down his face, while she took in the feeling of having all of Tony Stark's attention on her. She smiled and it seemed to break something inside of him and he wavered his lips until they were in an unconvincing grin. He turned away from her once more, eyes back on the city but seeing it for the first time._

"_What made you want to?" He asked._

"_Want to what?"_

"_Love a man who was gonna die young?"_

_Her brow furrowed, and she made herself busy with wiping at his face again even though it was clean. "Why would you say that?"_

"_Howard always use to tell me I was going to die young with the way I lived my life. Tragically ironic, yeah, yeah, I know. But-"_

"_Tony... he didn't know that somebody would be able to take care of you the way I do."_

Bruce's hand was suddenly on her shoulder. Pepper blinked, offered a smile, and was about to follow the scientist when she heard Tony's voice again. She grabbed Banner's arm and held up a finger signaling him to wait. He raised an eyebrow, but complied while trying to listen.

"...but you know what, Capsicle? All those people who thought you weren't ever going to make it in the army...they just didn't know that somebody would be able to look out for you like we do - the Avengers, I mean," they heard Tony say and if Bruce felt like their makeshift family just became closer, then he could only imagine what Pepper was going to do as she rounded the doorframe and stepped into the bathroom with a smile on her lips.

* * *

**AN: I had planned on continuing with the team taking care of Steve, but the chapter was getting quite long so I cut it off here. Next chapter will probably be part two of this. Is that something you guys are interested in? Let me know if you are and any other thoughts. Thanks for reading! **

**Chapter Title Info: Song - _A Man Who Was Gonna Die Young_ by Eric Church (Check it out. It's lovely.)**


	4. The Lion

AN: Thanks for reading, adding this story to your lists, and reviewing. Again, it really does mean a lot!

I've never actually been to the place mentioned in this chapter, but hopefully the five minutes of googling will be somewhat accurate.

References from Captain America: The First Avenger are made in this chapter, but you don't really need to have seen the movie to understand.

* * *

**You'll Never Walk Alone**

_Chapter Four: The Lion_

"Hey, Cap. I hear you're feeling better," Barton said as he walked into the main living area of Stark, or Avengers, Tower while munching on a bag of chips. He spotted the little boy over by the massive window, well, only after he had asked JARVIS where Steve had wandered off to. Their miniature leader turned his attention from whatever he was doing to look at Clint as he trudged over with a head of hair that was styled by his pillow only minutes ago.

Steve gave a small smile and a nod, before turning back towards the window.

"Throat still messin' with you, or are you working towards becoming a mime?" The archer questioned teasingly.

Bruce hadn't been wrong about needing to keep a close eye on Steve now that he was in a pre-serum state. Only about four days into being five years old again, he'd come down with strep throat and left the rest of Avengers wanting to place him in a plastic bubble until the serum started working again. It had been rough, leaving Steve unable to speak except for one word responses and hardly able to get the rest he needed. Somehow though, they'd managed to get him through it, and each other. Clint shook his head at the memory and sat down Indian style by Steve at the window.

The kid looked at him with a still peaked complexion. "Still kinda hurts, but not bad," he croaked slightly, giving a sheepish look. "I'm better though. Really."

Barton couldn't bring himself to point out that better didn't mean well, so instead he threw a chip in his mouth and as he munched on it, he said, "Well you might be better, but I'm still recovering. I mean I'm gonna have to start working out again, what with all your puking, you've gotta have those Captain America abs back. Sheesh."

"Well... those chips won't help you," Steve countered a bit timidly as if he didn't know whether he should have made the jab or not.

The archer chuckled as he reached in the bag for more chips. "You're gettin' there, Cap. Keep working on the comebacks and one day you'll give Stark a run for his money...well, metaphorically, of course." He threw some chips in his mouth while noticing some interesting papers in front of the kid that looked like something that should be in Stark or Bruce's lab. "So whatcha workin' on there, Picasso?"

Steve looked back down to the space between the window and his bony knees where pieces of paper were scattered. He re-gripped the pencil in his hand and started to add to the drawing in front of him. "Just drawing. Pepper gave me a coloring book, but...well, Tony gave me some paper and one of his pencils. Said something about en...encour-couraing more creativity," Steve stumbled through the bigger word and his frustration of the trouble showed when the pencil lead broke from the pressure the boy put on the utensil. He looked at it despondently, not having a pencil sharpener nearby or anything but a box of crayons left to draw with.

"Hey," Clint nudged him and pointed to the window where he had drawn, well, attempted to draw, an impressive stick figure in the condensation on the glass from the cold, rainy weather, "who needs a pencil?"

Steve grinned broadly and Hawkeye could just hear an older Steve Rogers say, _"That's swell."_

"What is that supposed to be?" Steve asked instead with a snicker while pressing his own finger against the glass in front of him.

"Um...I think you mean who," Clint narrowed his eyes in mock annoyance to see the boy grin wider. "It's Stark. Can't you tell by how big the head is?"

That caused the child to laugh outright and Clint joined along until he sensed someone walk into the room behind them, a bit too late though. He turned to see Stark standing behind them with an eyebrow raised.

Steve stopped laughing immediately and had the decency to look apologetic for laughing at the engineer, but Clint continued chuckling while swatting at the man's leg.

"Take it easy, Stark. The kid was just starting to make jokes. Don't ruin it."

Tony looked at Steve noticing he was practically wallowing in guilt for making fun of him and rolled his eyes. "Relax, Spangles. The reason I'm not laughing is because Birdo left out my dashing smile," he assured while reaching a hand between the two seated Avengers and turned the line for the mouth into not quite a U-shape.

Steve's grin returned and Tony caught a glimpse of the papers he'd given him. The paper contained what looked like would be some kind of walkway or boardwalk at the bottom and an afternoon sky at the top, but nothing in the middle. "Were my paper and pencil too insufficient for you?"

"No!" The boy exclaimed quickly, and winced as his throat throbbed. He rubbed mindlessly at it while saying, "I broke the lead and didn't have a sharpener. I would like to finish my drawing though. Do you have one?"

"So needy," Tony twisted his face in exaggerated mock annoyance so that the kid would know he was joking. Clint stood while literally turning the chip bag up and shaking out the crumbs in his mouth before stating he needed more. He began to make his way to the kitchen when Tony motioned for Steve to follow him. Steve picked up his pencil and paper before rushing after him. "He's like living with a tapeworm. Come on, you can sharpen your pencil in the lab, but it'll cost you. You see, I'm running this experiment and I need a human subject..." he trailed off as he noticed Steve had looked up at him with a ghastly expression. He exploded with laughter. "I'm joking, kid. Honest."

* * *

Tony was tinkering with some gadget in his lab on the far end of the table and found it oddly easy to concentrate with the soft swooshing sounds of Steve moving his pencil against the paper as he continued working on his drawing at the other end. For some reason the kid had requested to stay with Tony in the lab on the premise that he wouldn't bother him at all as if he wasn't even there which prompted the billionaire to furrow his brow. But, as he stood there sharpening Steve's pencil, he felt the small boy lean against his leg and wondered if he should make him go back to bed, because he knew Steve still wasn't one hundred percent over his strep throat ordeal. But he figured he could keep an eye on him for awhile if he was just going to sit there and draw, so he waved it off nonchalantly and sat him down at the opposite end from where he would be working.

They'd managed a silent, productive thirty or thirty-five minutes before Steve's raspy voice called on him. "Tony?"

"Hmm?" He responded not looking up from what he was doing. It was silent again for another few seconds.

"N-nevermind."

Tony still didn't look up and just shrugged in response.

A few minutes later though he did look up because Steve had called his name again.

"What is it, Cap?" He asked lightly.

"Do you...well, I know you do, but how..."

"Your throat still isn't well enough to be gargling all those words, kid. Spit it out," he encouraged while making a twirling motion with the piece of metal in his hand.

Steve sighed, and looked at his paper. "How do you...spell cyclone? I-I can't remember," the boy all but whispered as the tips of his ears could be seen turning a bright red.

Every part of Tony wanted to mock him extensively. Well, a_lmost _every part. Instead, he continued to fiddle with the small piece of metal as he walked over to the end of the table and peeked at the drawing. It wasn't like the immaculate drawings that Steve usually drew, but it was a lot better than any normal five year old should be able to create. He could tell it was supposed to be some kind of amusement park.

"Uh, yeah. Sure," Tony hurriedly spoke as he noticed that the boy had caught him looking. "C-y-c-l-o-n-e."

Steve swallowed thickly as he wrote the small letters on a sign to one of the rides in the picture. "T-thanks, Tony."

"No problem," he replied as he walked back to where he had been working. "Just don't ask me to spell Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. Not because I can't spell it, but because I _don't_ want that song stuck in my head."

"What?" Steve asked utterly confused.

"Oh! Too late," Tony confirmed while tapping a tool against his head then waving it like baton as if he were directing a musical performance and humming along.

Steve had no idea what song it was, but he found his feet that were dangling off his chair tapping along to the rhythm the billionaire created for the brief seconds it lasted. When the older man quit, he asked, "What is...super-super..cali-fraggle-ishics...whatever mean?"

"That, my pint-sized Avenger, can only be answered by watching Mary Poppins."

"Who's she?"

"The greatest nanny who ever nannied."

Steve chewed on the end of his pencil, then abruptly pulled it away, horrified by what he'd just unconsciously done. "Was she your nanny?"

Tony looked longingly, "I wish, kid. I always knew she had some legs under that dress."

"Why wouldn't she?"

The engineer laughed, "Nevermind. You probably wouldn't have even gotten that if you weren't currently five. It's a _man_ thing."

Steve just shrugged, brain too tired to keep trying to understand Tony, and started drawing again.

* * *

Clint strolled into Steve's room looking for the boy. "Cap? You coming to eat supper or did Julie Andrews' singing make you sick again," he asked, referring to the fact that he had been _forced_ to endure another lesson of educating Steve on pop culture by watching Mary Poppins. He noticed the bathroom door closed when he didn't receive an answer or see him and walked over to knock. His knuckles were just about to hit the door when it flew open and the Captain sauntered out. "You good?"

Steve nodded. "Just using the bathroom."

Barton nodded, but noticed the forlorn expression molding the kid's face. He gave his shoulder a small shove. "You still think you got super speed? Race ya."

"Can...can you help me t-tie my shoe first?" Steve asked, looking up at him timidly with big, blue eyes. The archer was a little thrown, mouth working like a fish for a second, before nodding. However, as he knelt down on one knee to help aid the boy he noticed that Steve's sneakers were perfectly laced and tied. "Your shoes aren't undone."

"I know," Steve's proud voice said quickly before he was running out the door and down the hallway. Clint realizing he'd been tricked went to chase after him, but stopped short when he noticed a piece of paper on the floor by the bed. He grabbed it and saw that it was Steve's drawing that he had been working on earlier. Though it wasn't up to par with his work as his normal self, it was still an unmistakeable picture of Coney Island.

An, "I'm winning," from down the hall caught his attention and he tossed the paper on the bed and chased after him.

* * *

"Woah!" Pepper exclaimed as a small blur ran past her when she turned from the kitchen island with a pot full of pasta in her hands. She stepped back just in time before Clint came barreling by hunched over with his arms outstretched like he was trying to catch the first shape that ran by her. Blinking she noticed it was Steve and Clint racing to the table, and suddenly the archer grabbed the small boy right before his fingers could touch the table and turned him upside down playfully. The boy laughed excitedly as Clint proclaimed that this was payback for some trick the younger one pulled, before placing him down in a chair at the table that Bruce and Tony sat at. Thor and Natasha's chairs were empty because the assassin left for an assignment the previous day, and Thor was in Asgard.

Steve bounced in the seat as Clint plopped down beside, but the boy rubbed his throat as he tried to catch his breath before he coughed softly. He still continued to share a laugh with Clint as the archer patted his back. "You still good?"

Before he could answer, Bruce, from where he had been watching from across the table, warned, "He doesn't need to be running like that."

"Yes, _mother_," Clint rolled his eyes and made a face at Steve, as they started laughing again, though Steve was bit more subdued because he didn't want to hurt Bruce's feelings.

"And you guys thought it would be me to corrupt the kid," Tony indirectly boasted himself as Pepper came to the table with their dinner held securely in her hands.

"You're not out of the running yet," she said sitting down beside him.

* * *

"I don't think that's a good idea, Clint," Bruce said, looking up from what he was working on in the lab two days later.

"Oh, come on, Banner. You gave him a clean bill of health this morning-"

"Yes, but he still doesn't exactly have a _normal_ bill of health. We need to be careful."

"Careful, yes. Overbearing, no. He needs to get out and live a little whether he's five, twenty-five, or ninety-five. You can't just keep in the tower forever. Besides it's not like people will notice him, or me for that matter," Barton argued from where he sat perched on one of the cabinets in the lab.

Bruce removed his glasses and sighed, "Can't you take him...I don't know...to eat somewhere?"

"We're not going on date," the archer deadpanned. "Come on, he wants to go!"

"Did he tell you that?"

"Indirectly. You know, Cap."

"You'll watch him?"

"Like a _hawk_."

"You'll take care of him?"

"I'm Mary f'ing Poppins," Clint said holding his hands out to the side.

* * *

Steve couldn't believe it.

He'd been nervous all day since Clint had told them they were going somewhere. He hadn't really been out in the city since he'd changed back. He'd been to S.H.I.E.L.D. once, but didn't really remember much because he was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was five years old again. Then, they'd all went out to eat lunch one day. It was a bit overwhelming, but after awhile he'd managed to regain a level head and have a pretty good time.

However, Barton refused to tell him where they were going so Steve felt his stomach twist all day. Bruce kept asking him if he felt alright, and every time he insisted that he was, because he knew he was just nervous. Although it did occur to him to tell the doctor he wasn't so he wouldn't have to go, he quickly decided against that route because he wasn't a coward and he didn't want to cause Banner to worry anymore than he obviously was.

But Steve still couldn't believe it. He'd noticed his old neighborhood of Brooklyn while Clint drove through the city and he couldn't decide if it made him happy or sad to see it, so he started asking Clint about other things they passed until they arrived at their destination. Steve didn't need to ask anything about it, because he knew exactly where they were, but still. He couldn't believe it.

They stood at the entrance to Coney Island for a good minute with Steve staring silently at the sign.

"Well? You ready to have some fun, Cap?" Clint asked, clearly unaware.

Steve swallowed nervously as memories of Bucky came to him. Suddenly the world shifted and the place looked exactly like it did back then. It made him dizzy and he reached out to grab Barton's leg in order to steady himself, but when he thought he saw Bucky standing at the popcorn vending cart he hid his face in the leg altogether.

"Hey, what's the matter?" The archer pushed him away gently and knelt down.

Steve peeked cautiously at him from where he'd squeezed his eyes shut and when he saw that he wasn't back in the 20's and 30's anymore, he opened them fully. He noticed that Clint's expression looked a lot like Bruce's when they left mixed with something that appeared like the archer was in trouble. "N-nothing. Sorry...just a lot of...memories here."

"Bad?"

"No! No. Good ones. Well, I threw up here once, but other than that, good."

The archer laughed a bit uncertainly, but motioned towards the entrance. "So, do you want to go? We don't have to-"

"I want to," Steve informed with determination. He knew that Clint had been excited about where they were going all day, and decided that he couldn't let the guy down.

"You sure?"

"Positive."

Clint nodded and stood, but quickly turned towards Steve with a slight wince as if he'd remembered something painful. "Listen...Bruce went on and on at me with this lecture about-," but the man was cut off when the small boy placed his hand in his.

"I know. He told me, too," Steve said as he looked up at him, then smiled. "Even though I was giving the stranger danger speech to kids long before he was even born."

Barton laugh loudly and ruffled the boy's hair. "Come on, kid. Let's let loose."

* * *

They rode the small rides, because Steve wasn't big enough to ride the larger ones and to be perfectly honest he didn't mind, except he hoped that Clint wasn't disappointed. However, the archer seemed to be having a good a time as Steve was, so the kid relaxed about it.

"So," Barton started as they stepped off the Dizzy Dragons, "you feel like eating after that? I'm starved."

Steve grinned, taking his hand subconsciously as he shrunk back from the large crowd of people. He nodded eagerly and was proud that the rides didn't seem to make him as sick as they had before. "Can I get a hot dog and fries? They have the best!"

"Sure thing, All-American," he snorted and led them towards a vendor stand.

* * *

They stood in line a few minutes, Clint sending a quick text response to Bruce, and somewhat surprisingly, Tony to their questions of how it was going, before they got to the counter. Clint ordered Steve's hot dog and fries, and even got him a chocolate milkshake even though he hadn't asked for it, but judging by the way he took it from the man handing it to him, he wasn't disappointed. Clint got himself two hot dogs, one suggested by the kid, and another plain one with onion rings and a chocolate shake, too.

They found a small table by the water and sat down to eat. Clint chowed down, while Steve picked at his, but enjoyed every bite. He managed to eat just about all but one bite of his hot dog, and left a handful of fries, but as he slurped on his milkshake while the archer finished his second dog and onion rings, he noticed two birds nearby on the boardwalk. He glanced at his fries, then back to the birds.

"Go ahead, kid," Clint encouraged around the food in his mouth while moving his head towards the birds across the way. "Feed 'em if you're full."

Steve grinned and picked up a big french fry, breaking it in half so that each bird could have a piece before tossing it over. The birds devoured it.

"One time," Steve started to explain as he broke another fry and tossed it, "me and Bucky got a funnel cake. We didn't have the money for it...Bucky snuck us in just to ride the rides...but he knew the vendor and he gave us a funnel cake for free." Clint listened already aware that Bucky was Steve's childhood friend from back then. "It was really good! But we were walking down thataway and these birds started flying around us. We didn't notice at first, but then one flew right down on the plate to grab a piece!" Steve tossed another fry and laughed jovially. "Bucky...he always denied it and told me he'd pummel me if I ever told the kids at school, but he screamed like a girl. He dropped the plate and the birds got the rest of it, but I think it was worth it." He tossed another fry but this time it didn't travel as far and the birds got closer to the table.

Clint chuckled, but said, "You better use a little bit more muscle when you throw, otherwise those birds are gonna do the same thing to you, I think." Steve threw the next one really far away.

He turned back to Clint who burped miserably, but then ate another onion ring. The small boy grinned and the archer raised his eyebrow. "What?"

"Thank you for bringing me here. I..I haven't been here since me and Bucky...I thought I would never come back...that's why I drew this place the other day."

"So...you didn't want to come here?"

"Well," Steve looked sheepish, "not at first. But...I've had a swell day and...and if anybody could be as fun as Bucky...I'm glad it's you."

Barton, unsure how to act because he definitely didn't feel anything in his chest_ flutter_ after that, took a long sip of his milkshake while nodding his head. "Good," he finally said and held out his fist across the table for their show of brotherhood. Once the tiny fist hit his, he gathered their stuff up on the tray and hurried to stand up. "Now, we better scram because I believe you've started a family reunion," he said motioning towards several more birds that had appeared on the boardwalk searching for french fries.

* * *

"We really don't have to play this game. You know they rig them," Steve reasoned as they stood in line for a game where if you shoot all the targets you get a stuffed animal.

Clint, who hadn't failed to notice the kid eying the lion hanging from the stand's ceiling, walked over without even asking. "Please. I've got this! And...if you don't want the lion I win as a prize, at least let me show these dorks what real precision is."

Steve bit his lip in attempts to hide his smile as Clint stepped up the the game. He took the fake gun and aimed, waiting for the targets to light up. He shot...and missed.

"Real pr-precision, huh?" Steve teased, though he stumbled over the last word.

Clint narrowed his eyes at him then. Never taking his eyes off of Steve, he shot all the targets, hitting them directly. The alarm went off indicating that he'd won, and the kid jumped slightly at the sound.

"Which one you want?" The young guy working asked a bit dumbfounded.

"The lion," Clint responded still smirking smugly at Steve. The guy handed it to him and the archer walked away with the boy, before placing it in the Captain's embarrassed hands, but Clint ruffled his hair as if silently telling him that he wasn't judging him, and the boy wrapped an arm around it. Thankfully, it was a standard sized toy and not the giant ones usually won at carnivals.

"You know, no one likes a show off," the kid chided.

"Really? Because I'm pretty sure those people loved me," Clint smiled and led them over to the Carousel.

* * *

Steve, been given the chance to pick which animal he had wanted to ride on the Carousel , had chosen the seat that didn't move so Barton could sit beside him. At first, the older man thought he'd done it because it might have been too childish to ride an animal, but each time they went around with the music Steve would fall over more on Clint until they finally came to a stop and the boy was practically asleep.

The archer was reluctant, but seeing no other way around it besides making the kid stumble to the car, he picked him up from the seat and Steve's head rested on his shoulder. Clint hadn't seen the lion abandoned in the seat, but somehow the boy managed to wake up enough to make some kind of noise to alert him.

"I got it," he assured, while grabbing it and placing it in the kid's hand that was tucked between his shoulder and the older man's chest.

* * *

"So how'd it- is that a stuffed animal?" Tony questioned as soon as Hawkeye walked through the door holding a sleeping Captain America, lion still under his arm.

"Be quiet, you'll wake him up," Pepper scolded the billionaire in a hushed tone as Bruce walked in from another room.

"Is he okay?"

Clint rolled his eyes and made his way towards Steve's room. "Yes, Mom and Dad and...weird Uncle. I'll let you guys decide who's who."

* * *

Clint laid the boy down on the bed without turning down the sheets and Pepper sighed from the doorway before walking over and shooing him away. She grabbed a pair of pajamas from the dresser and walked back over to the bed, not missing how Tony and Clint suddenly left the room when she started taking off his clothes to change him.

Bruce rolled his eyes and chuckled, not fazed by it considering he took care of kids when he traveled to a 'stress-free environment' and he'd already dealt with a changing the kid's clothes when he was sick.

He watched as the woman tucked the covers up around him and how Steve suddenly hugged the stuffed lion tighter. Then, he whispered to Pepper, "Why do I get the feeling that's going to take the place of his shield?"

* * *

AN: I don't know...I just like Hawkeye being an older brother to Steve. Thanks for reading! I'd love it if you...ya know...used that box below to tell me what you think! But I'm not an author that holds stories hostage for reviews, so I'm only asking. The only reason I don't complete something is because I hit a deep pit fall, sort of like an abyss, and don't know what to write. But I have a lot of stuff in mind for this story. I hope you'll stay tuned.


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